Pretty Boy, Butch Girl
by Ethan-Silas
Summary: A story in which a trans Harry (ftm) helps Draco realize 'he' is a girl (mtf) and they fall in love in the process. They learn about love through their elders, and young romance through their peers, going through life throughout. Problematic as they start out pretty ignorant to trans people; I tried to mirror my own experience as a trans person first delving into this sort of thing
1. Prologue - Confusion at First Sight

The boy was reclining against the back of a park bench, platinum hair slicked back, a few strands falling onto his pretty face. His large, round, silver eyes were half-lidded, and he seemed quite sleepy. He had a small, cute nose, and soft, small lips, and a thin, pointy chin. His cheeks were chiseled and, overall, he was a very… _pretty_ boy. He wore a silver-white shirt, a black jacket, and a large grey autumn coat. His skinny jeans were black and were tucked into high top converse shoes.

Harry Potter was taken by him, sitting there, a soft smile on his face as he studied the busy park, full of families playing together and couples giggling on benches and small groups of teens laughing in the multicolored trees.

Though Harry had only been looking at him for a moment, the boy quickly sensed his gaze and they suddenly made eye contact. Anxiously, Harry smiled and then quickly turned around, before realizing there wasn't anywhere to go- he was just out for a walk, and if he just walked away, he'd re-enter the cul-de-sac he lived in. Face now burning with embarrassment against the chilly breeze, he turned again, face down, walking by the pretty boy. He glanced over towards him as he passed. The unknown boy was smiling amusedly, and Harry was startled by a thought- he was… Beautiful. Gorgeous. It was a rare and almost unsettling thought for Harry. Color, probably from the cold, was tinting the boy's nose and cheeks pink, contrasting with the overall fairness of his face. He looked like a pretty painting, especially with the wide smile on his face. Swallowing, and blushing even harder, Harry turned away and walked forward, pushing his hands into his coat pockets, smiling with discomfort and a strange happiness as he tucked the bottom half of his face into the collar of his big red coat.

He watched the - _boy_?- walk away. Draco, admittedly, couldn't quite tell- the stranger had been no taller than five six, and thin, but the large, ribbed jacket covered everything from his chin to his midthigh. His legs were sporting a loose pair of jeans, and his face looked pretty androgynous, though leaned a bit towards the feminine. His short, wild hair was unstyled and haphazardly pushed under a beanie, curls peeking out the back and could easily be either a feminine-looking guy or a butch girl. However, it was a bit hard to tell. Either way, he'd been quite cute, and he'd been grinning at Draco like a doof.

 _Maybe he's trans_ , Draco thought, his smile renewing. Draco _desperately_ wished he knew more trans people. The all-too-familiar confused, uncomfortable tenseness flooded Draco once more and he closed his eyes, exhaling long and slow through his nose. Everything reminded Draco about whatever _this_ was- was he trans? Was he a girl? Was he just feminine? What did being a 'girl' or a 'guy' even _mean_? He wished he knew someone who was trans and who had been through it all and could help him figure it all out.

Draco looked up to see that the boy(?) in the big red jacket had gotten quite far away. It really didn't matter, honestly. Just a stranger walking down the road, who would stay a stranger. A melancholy feeling settled over him. How many people did he see in this park? How many of them could, in the right circumstances, one day become a best friend? A lover? A spouse? Draco sighed, then stood abruptly up, suddenly disheartened by the company of other people. He started walking, zipping his jacket and buttoning his coat, walking across the park and into the long, winding driveway that led to his large house, trying to decide on an activity he could do without being bored, mindless, and outrageously dissatisfied. He could think of none.


	2. Chapter One - Harry

The smell of fresh, homemade crepes wafted up the stairs and through the gap between the ceiling and the door, and only that was enough to coax me out of bed. Begrudgingly, as if they were doing me very dirty, I stumbled into the first pair of jeans I could find, not bothering to check if they came from the dirty or clean pile- but that was why I'd placed them so strategically when I was awake enough to care. I struggled into my binder through the groggy haze of sleep, then grabbed a t-shirt and tugged it over my head as my legs brought me down the stairs. Mom and Purverell, our cat, were cuddled lazily up on the couch, him purring loudly while she sipped her tea, half paying attention to the news on the television. Dad was in the kitchen humming Christmas carols, despite the fact that it was mid-September. I tried not to glare, but from the antagonistic grin he sent me, I was not particularly successful.

"Weeee- _wish_ you a Merry Christmas, _we-wish_ you-a Merry Christmas, we _WISH_ youamerrychristmas, and a haaaappyyyy Newwwww…. Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaar!" He belted out passionately. I wordlessly scooped up Mom's plate and carried it to her in the living room.

"Thanks, baby," she said in her quiet, sleepy voice. I grunted in return, walking back for my own food. I noticed that Dad was wearing the frilly pink apron Mom had bought him as a gag gift over his police uniform, dancing wildly as he waited for his own breakfast to be done, having moved onto Rocking Around The Christmas Tree, switching his voice wildly between Elvis Presley and George Thoroughgood. I sat at the dining room table, figuring his out-of-tune screeching might wake me up faster.

"Ron and 'Mione are coming over for dinner," I reminded Dad when he sat down across from me.

"Right, well," he said. "I invited Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, so it'll be a full house, then,"

I shrugged. "The more the merrier, eh?"

"Right you are, ol' boy," he said, and poked my arm gently with his fork. A little while later, Mom walked through the room to the kitchen sink, Purverell following her closely. Dad swatted her bum as she passed, and she giggled, and I shuddered.

"Gross," I said.

"That's life," Dad said.

"That's my mom," I replied grimly.

"And that's my wife, but I had to sit idly by for two years while you-"

"Enough, boys," said Mom cheerily, shooting us both a patient and amused smile.

"Yes, Mom," I said.

"Yes, dear," Dad said.

"Good," Mom said, and sat at the table, drinking her tea. The cat jumped up on the table and stretched out, and Dad curled his lip as the scent of pumpkin spice reached his nose. Mom's playful eyes dared him to say something, but wisely, he did not. I pet Purverell's back, and begrudgingly, he let me.

"Ron and Hermione are coming over," Dad said.

"I had assumed," said Mom. "As Harry told us, like, five days ago."

"Oh," Dad said, and looked down.

I cursed under my breath as I glanced at the clock, and Mom quirked a scolding brow at me. "I'm gonna be late," I said, scurrying to my feet, trying to think of the best way to carry a crepe.

"Do you need a ride?" Dad asked.

"Yes, please," I said, then awkwardly settled down into my seat. "Thank you,"

"Fifty quid," he said. I shot him a look, and he winked.

"You're so not funny,"

"I never claimed to be," he said. Mom snorted derisively, and he frowned at her, though his eyes were bright. "Okay, fine. I haven't claimed to be in a while,"

She rolled her eyes. When I finished my food, I washed off both my plate and Dad's, then we headed out the door. He dropped me off at school before heading towards the precinct.

I made my way to my locker, happy to see Ron and Hermione waiting for me. I'd have preferred to see them doing something _other_ than snogging, but at least they were here. I kicked Ron in the shins, and after a groan, he gently pulled Hermione away from my locker so I could get to it. Red-faced, they took a moment to compose themselves as I silently unlocked the door.

"Goodmorning," Hermione said in her chipper Manc accent.

"Morning," I said. "How was that double date with Seamus and Lavender last night?"

Ron's face grew impassive and his eyes fell, and Hermione grew sour. "Terrible," she said. "Absolutely terrible. That girl is-" she took a moment to calm down. "I have no idea why I'd expected it to be different."

"I'm sorry," I said. "What happened?"

"She kept- ugh, this is so hard to explain- _negging_ me, and mentioning how she and Ron had done things, and- ugh. You know her, Harry. You know what she's like,"

"Yeah," I said grimly, thinking of the snarky girl. "I do."

"I'd be entirely content never speaking to her again,"

"We have to talk to her," said Ron. "For as long as she's with Seamus, anyway."

"I have no clue why is," she said, then turned her anger towards Ron for a moment. "None of this would have happened if _you_ hadn't brought her into all this mess… Honestly, Ronald, I have no idea what you ever _saw_ in her…"

I tuned out their half-argument. I'd never really understood the strange and exhausting drama they always found themselves in- even when _O_ was in it, too. Unwillingly, I found myself reminded of myself and Ginny before fervently pushing _that_ memory deep under the surface again.

"Hello?" Ron urged, nudging me. I looked at him. Hermione had gone, apparently.

"Sorry. What?"

"Did you finish your Chem homework? God, I knew Hermione taking AP was going to be bad news for me…"

"Um, yeah, here- give it back at lunch," I said, trying to locate the packet from my homework folder. Snape had really overworked us this year, even in comparison to his normal load. _Packets_ of homework every single night. If homework didn't count for so much of the grade this year, I might have given up on it. However, this was my _final_ year with Snape, and I definitely did not want to repeat it. I'd heard McGonagall, the Physics teacher, wouldn't be too much better on the workload, though she was a much more helpful teacher. We walked towards their shared first period English class.

"Believe it or not," Ron said. "I actually wrote my story on my own,"

"Not," I responded.

"No, seriously!" Ron insisted. "I'm not gonna lie, I definitely _asked_ 'Mione to do it for me, but she was still annoyed about Lavender, so she basically told me to sod off. I asked Ginny, too, but she just told me to let it _pour_ out, y'know, to really _feel_ what I was writing."

"So, you did that?" I asked, very surprised and a little impressed.

"Yeah, man. I mean, I had to take two gummies off Fred, but it was like- a great experience, you know. And I had Percy edit it, because he's been real nice ever since Penelope started to put out, so. I know I'm gonna get a good grade,"

I was distinctly less impressed, but nonetheless happy for him. "I have to read that," I said with a grin.

"What until I get it back, or Flitwick'll think you wrote it and I'm getting it back from you,"

"Not like that would be the first time," I muttered.

"What was that, boys?" asked Flitwick from behind us, and we both jumped.

"Nothing, sir," I said hurriedly.

"Nothing at all," Ron agreed.

"I thought so," said the teacher, making his way past us to the front of the room. "Let Potter read your story, Ronald."

We sat in our spots towards the back of the room and Ron handed me his short story. I read it as students slowly filled the classroom and the morning bell grew ever closer. It was an epic story about a young medieval wizard, always thought to be the least capable of twelve brothers, going off on a quest at age fourteen. The maiden he was supposed to save from a tower had become friends with the dragon, a powerful witch herself, and together, they went on to do great things. The fact that Romulus was Ron and Honorata was Hermione was almost painfully obvious. "I… Really love it, actually," I said as the bell rang.

"Thanks," grinned Ron.

"I don't think it's a short story anymore, though. Too long. I think it's a novelette,"

Ron's face blanched. "Oh, no,"

"It's fine, Ronald," said Flitwick. "Usually, of course, that would be unacceptable. But, to be honest, I'm surprised you wrote anything at all and would not like to discourage that."

Ron sighed in relief. "Thank you so much, sir,"

"Mhm," said Flitwick, taking the paper from me with a tense smile. "I'll have yours as well, Mr. Potter,"

I pulled my short story out of my folder- significantly worse than Ron's, it was just a little memory of Mum and the Marauders and I playing football in the backyard at a Thanksgiving dinner, titled 'My Favorite Holiday'. Come to think of it, I was still very impressed by Ron's work. "What'd you write?" Ron asked.

"Nothing special," I said. "Not like yours. You should try writing more,"

"I dunno," Ron said, flushing a bit.

"I'm serious, dude. Maybe try making 'Honorata and Romulus' a little longer, you know- like a novella, or a full-length novel,"

"I have no clue what the difference is between any of those," said Ron.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Flitwick said.

"Thank you, sir," said Ron.

"We have a test on it tomorrow," I said. Ron shrugged, and I sighed. He was hopeless.

"Mr. Weasley, a moment, please?" Flitwick said as the bell rang. Me and Ron, ever inseparable, both walked up to his desk. He didn't seem to mind. "I think Potter's right. This is a very, very good piece of writing- maybe even good enough for publishing, with a bit of work. I think you'd do well to turn it into a novel, or even a series,"

Ron blinked at the small stack of papers in Flitwick's hands. No red on the first page, but a lot of green. "Really?" he asked softly. I tried not to be offended that he hadn't believed _me_ when I'd said it.

"Yes, Ron. Really."

"Me and 'Mione and probably even Percy will help," I said softly. "And Fred- can help you stay inspired, you know,"

"Yeah," he said, then nodded. "Yeah," he repeated, more confidently. Then, he grinned. "Yes."

We met a still agitated Hermione on the way to the east wing, where they had Aerobics together and I had art. He handed her his story, gushing over it and how excited he was, and she instantly softened to him, holding his hand, beaming at him as he poured his heart out over Honorata and Romulus and how much he loved them, and Hermione, and writing. It was unprecedented. I loved seeing the two of them together- Hermione was less worried, less uptight, and more… Carefree. Ron was less strung out, less concerned, and more… Happy. They brought out the best in each other. It absolutely warmed my heart.

Once we parted ways, I walked into the art class, only to be struck by a familiar face. My heart began to pound, and I felt like, for a moment, I was falling backwards, though my feet were glued to the floor and my legs were made out of lead. I felt myself flush a little, then force myself to my empty table so I didn't look like _such_ a freak, staring at him.

The pretty boy from the park was standing at the front of the room, this time in periwinkle skinny jeans and a baggy white shirt, splattered stylishly with neon pink and blue and purple and green, holes dotting the torso, a fishnet undershirt beneath, and the same converse shoes as before. Some of the kids in the back of the room were snickering under their breath. Soon, the bell rang.

"Alright, class," said Miss Pince. "This is Draco Malfoy, he'll be joining us for the rest of the semester," she motioned towards my table, the only one with vacancies, and I saw the recognition and surprise blossom on his pretty face. He got a soft, warm smile, then sat across from me, setting his things in front of the empty seat beside him, across from mine. His nails had a shiny french manicure on them, coming to the end of his fingertips. Miss Pince began to do attendance, and the students began to chat amongst themselves.

"Hello," said Draco, his voice high and gentle.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry Harry Potter," responded the blonde amusedly.

I let out a gentle, nervous chuckle. "I- okay. Um, you, too,"

"Parkinson, Pansy!" Miss Pince eventually called. I tensed as reality came flooding back to me- after her, it was-

"Here," Pansy called out, bored.

"Potter, Henriette!" said Miss Pince. _She didn't even say it right,_ I thought, cringing. It was _Ahn-reet_ , not _Henry-edda_.

I'd been correcting her since school started, two weeks ago. Draco was eyeing me sadly, tentative, his eyes soothing and soft. "Um," I managed.

"Harry, sorry," she mumbled, marking me present. _Presumably_.

"Harry's a nice name," said Draco softly.

"Um, thanks," I said, my skin crawling. "Draco is, too- pretty unique,"

"Yeah," he said with a half-hearted shrug.

"So, how old are you? I'm sixteen," I said.

"Same," he said. "I turn seventeen in June- 5 June,"

"31 July," I said. He nodded. Miss Pince began to hand out our folders, which had our warm up instructions inside. _Draw your partner_. Me and Draco looked at each other, then began to sketch each other. I wasn't particularly great at it, but he definitely was, and a lot faster with it than me. _Why was everyone so much better at everything than me?_

"Um," he said, in a far away voice, as if searching for something to talk about. "What's your favorite color?"

I thought for a moment. "Gold, I think. Yours?"

"Lavender," he said. "Favorite holiday?"

"Thanksgiving. You?"

"New Years," he said. "Favorite season?"

I thought for a long while. "Summer, I guess. Yours?"

"Winter."

I couldn't seem to get the shape of his face right- it was too pointy, or too round, or too long. "You don't sound like you're from around here," I said, thinking of his posh accent.

"I'm not," he said. "Just moved to Inverness from Nottingham,"

I nodded, only vaguely familiar with English cities. "Aye," I said.

"You sound like you're from around here, though," he said with a smirk.

"Aye," I repeated, grinning awkwardly.

"Do you speak Gaelic?"

"A bit," I said. "My dad's the one who's from around here, but Mom isn't, so he doesn't speak it much. Actually- my grandparents speak it a lot, which is where I learned most of it from. My Mom's mom speaks French fluently, as she's French, and her Dad speaks Welsh, so I know those a bit, too. Not fluently, or anything, but I can usually understand sentences well enough,"

He didn't speak for a long time, but he had a small, fond smile on his face. "You know, when you speak fast, I can barely understand you,"

I laughed heartily. "Sorry about that,"

We continued to chat as we sketched each other. His turned out a lot better than mine; it was me, grinning doofily down at the table, the lines and contours of my face perfectly captured, my unruly hair impeccable, the folds of my loose jacket precise, the shading unparalleled. Mine… Resembled him, maybe? And it was just his face and hair. Usually, I was pretty indifferent to my own art- neither proud nor ashamed- but now, I was very embarrassed. He seemed to like it, though.

After the warm up, we were to continue our weekly project- some big abstract thing with no point to it, really. I'd just drawn random shapes and was now coloring them in, mostly with black and red, leaving a lot white. I muttered the instructions to Draco as he started his rough draft on a piece of computer paper. His design was a lot prettier than mine, with a lot of things that looked like flowers.

"You're really good at this," I said.

He flushed a bit. "Thank you,"

"Are you gonna do anything with that? Work wise, I mean?"

"I do commissions on Twitter," Draco said. "And I've always wanted to make comics, but I'm a piss-poor writer,"

I nodded. "That's cool,"

"What do you want to do?"

I laughed grimly. "Fuck if I know,"

"You've got time," he assured me.

"A bit,"

We continued to chat as we drew. Though we'd all been given two days to finish our rough drafts, his was done ten minutes before the bell, and he proceeded onto his large poster board, working a lot slower this time, talking a lot less, his face pointed focus. Something about it was- _enthralling_ , which was so strange to me. I liked girls, exclusively- and very rarely. I wasn't sure what it was about Draco that… struck me so. I shuddered, trying to shake it off.

When class ended, we gathered up our things. "What's your next class?" I asked.

"Um, Chemistry with Mr. Snape," he said. I grinned.

"Me, too," I said.

"Is it a good class?"

"No, it's shit. But I'll be there to emotionally support you through the vindictive bullying Snape puts all his students through,"

"Lovely," said Draco in a strange voice.

"It's not so bad," said Pansy from behind us. She, too, had Snape third hour. She wrapped one arm around me and one around Draco. "He tends to go easy on sissies,"

She was such a _bitch_ sometimes. "First of all, Pansy, go fuck yourself. Second of all, that's a damned lie."

"He's easy on _me_ ," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"You transitioned before he met you, and you pass perfectly," I said. Draco looked at her suddenly with new eyes, inspecting her. That would bother me, but she didn't seem to mind. "Plus, you're hot,"

"Yes, I am," she said snobbishly.

"Are there many trans people here?" Draco asked curiously.

"No, just Harry and I," said Pansy. "Mr. Lupin's spouse is enby, though,"

"Enby?"

"Non-binary," I explained. "They identify somewhere in the middle, and are pronoun indifferent- he, she, they. I tend to go with they,"

"I use she, mostly, 'cause she presents really femme, but I think they're AMAB,"

"Intersex," I said.

"Really? Cool,"

"What is that?" Draco asked tentatively.

"What? AMAB or intersex?"

"Both," he said. "And _femme_ ,"

Me and Pansy exchanged a look, and we walked into Snape's classroom. The three of us sat at a lab table together, waiting. "AMAB is assigned male at birth- you and Pansy, cis men and trans girls,"

"Cis?"

"Not trans- identifies as the gender they were assigned at birth." I said. He nodded slowly. "Conversely, AFAB is assigned female at birth- me and Miss Pince. Trans guys and cis girls. Intersex means born with atypical parts- maybe a cis guy with XX chromosomes, or both types of genitals…"

"Like, a hermaphrodite?" he asked.

Me and Pansy exchanged another look. "Yeah," she said. "But that's kind of a slur, so,"

"Oh," he said. "I didn't- I'm sorry, I-"

"Femme is us," she said, nudging him. "And Miss Pince. Just… Feminine, I guess. Girly. Sissies like you, trannies like me, crazy cat women like her,"

"Sissy?" he said.

"Girly boys. Traps," she said.

"Trap?"

"That's also a slur," I said, my voice low. "Don't say it,"

"Tranny is a slur, too, right?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," she said. "A very cute one, though, if I do say so myself."

"Sissy is not a slur, though," he said.

"No, but it's a pejorative," I said. "An insult."

"So, you're gay, right?" Pansy asked him.

Draco blinked. "I'm pansexual,"

"Ah," Pansy said.

"You two?"

"We're het," Pansy said, running a finger along my spine. Involuntarily, I shivered. "Straight. Heterosexual."

"You're together?" Draco asked his voice- strange.

"God, no," Pansy said, pulling her hand away. "He has a pussy. _Gross_."

I shuddered, trying not to gag. Dysphoria flooded me like a typhoon. "Fuck you, Pansy,"

"In your dreams, baby. Dick girls might be in, but pussy boys aren't."

I flipped her off, and she grinned.

" _Miss_ -ter Potter," a familiar voice said in a strong Welsh accent. I tensed, dropping my hand. "Detention. That was entirely inappropriate."

"I'm sorry, sir," I muttered under my breath.

"Who is the- boy?- between you and Miss Parkinson?"

"He," I said, annoyed. "Is Draco Malfoy, a new student,"

Snape consulted his computer, then nodded unhappily. "Yes, so it seems," the bell rang. "Pass your homework to the front of the room,"

Silently, everyone did. Draco seemed a bit- perturbed. He gawked at the packets.

It was one very long hour.

Afterwards, Pansy set off for english, Draco for gym, and I for history, which I was very grateful for, though sad to part ways with Draco. I sat beside Hermione near the front of the room, sharing a smile with Moony, who was typing at his desk. Hermione was furiously scribbling something on a piece of paper.

"'Mione-"

"Shh!" she hissed. I raised both brows, but said nothing. Moony smirked. The bell rang.

"Alright, class-"

"Shh!" Hermione said again, sounding almost- terrified. I looked at her as she stared desperately down at the page before her. Moony kneeled in front of her.

"If you need quiet-"

"Shh!"

Moony made a stern face, then pointed to his office. With her things, she darted inside, and closed and locked the door. We exchanged a look; _something was very wrong with her_. I'd ask Ron later; it was hopeless to try and get anything out of her right now. "I trust you'll catch her up when you get the chance, Fawn?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I said.

"Thank you- now," he said, standing up, addressing the whole class. "You've all had two whole years of history before now- you know the basics. We'll be delving deeper, of course, throughout this year, but I noticed that a lot of you- this class especially- don't seem to enjoy it or take it at all seriously," he glanced at his office door. "Even the most successful of you. So- I thought I'd do a fun little project to peak your interests, hopefully," Many students groaned at that, and Moony gave a small, amused grin. "That's the spirit, class. I want you to dig as far back into your family tree as you can, and make your own little project all about the history, culture, and roots of your family. It can be whatever you want- a PowerPoint presentation, a picture book with notes, a whole novel for all I care. If you are unsure about anything, feel free to bring it up with me. You have three weeks to work on it, but you'll only have in-class time this first week, as we do have other things to get to- however, you'll be glad to hear that it's the only homework you'll have for all three weeks," the class seemed to cheer up a bit at that, not that our homework load was ever terribly large from this class. He motioned to the laptop cart at the front of the room. "Row by row, come up and grab a laptop. You can use your phones, too, to text your family. It will be a decidedly relaxed week,"

My row was last. I waited patiently, texting both of my parents. I wished I'd gotten Pansy's phone number… _Gym_. I tried to think of anyone I knew in gym fourth period… _Ginny_. I opened up our messages. We hadn't texted in over six months- **is tht u knockin on the door ?** she'd asked, and I'd replied simply with _aye_. Before that, another nine months, but I'd deleted those- my coming out, our breakup. Messy times.

 _Fuck it_ , I thought. _Hey, it's Harry. Can you tell the new kid my number and ask him to text me pls?_

When I returned from getting my laptop, she hadn't replied, but I had a message from a new number.

Hi. It's Draco.

 _I forgot to get your number, before_

What's up?

 _Nothing. Lupin gave us the world's easiest assignment, and we're allowed to use our phones_

That's cool.

Hooch is making us run a mile. I think I'm gonna die.

 _Lmaooo, sorry about that. I'll be sure to give a heartfelt eulogy_

At least someone will

 _My parents aren't responding. I am not happy about this_

What, do you need them?

 _Yeah. It's a family history project. All I know about is us and their parents._

Start with that, then.

 _Aye, I could._

 _I could probably message my cousin, too. He might know more._

Cool. So- tell me about your family, then. Keep you on track lol

 _Well. I'm an only child to James Henry Potter and Lily Jane Potter, née Evans. Dad's parents are Fleamont and Euphemia Potter (lovely names, I know) and Mom's parents are John and Rose Evans. Dad's an only child, too, but Pops has a little brother named Charlus Potter, a widower with a son whose name I can never remember lol- Dorren? Darren? Damien? Something like that, I think. Mom has an older sister, Petunia, who has a husband and a son (Dudley, that cousin I was talking about. A right git, but he's slowly improving, lol). I know Pops was named after his mom's maiden name, but that's about it._

 _What about your family?_

There's really just my mother and my father and I. Father's family's gone, and Mother's family…

Well, they like her and Father well enough. Not so much me.

Mother and I get on well enough, I suppose. Father… Is still adjusting, I suppose.

 _Adjusting to what?_

They're British aristocrats, and I'm… A sissy, apparently.

 _Well, fuck them. I think you're rad._

Thank you~

Do you like your family? Other than your gittish cousin?

 _My parents and I are close. I like all my grandparents a lot, but Pops and Nana are in Edinburgh, and Grandpa and Grandma live in Wales. I don't see them that much. I've only met Uncle Charlus and his son a handful of times. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are- well, where do you think Dudley got it from? Lol. Dud is alright now, though, I guess. He likes me a lot better as a guy than a butch girl- easier for him to make sense of, I suppose._

Are they supportive of the trans thing?

 _Some of them. Mom and Dad are super good with it- caught on to the pronouns and new name really fast. And they're supportive, like, emotionally, 'cause long story short, starting on HRT and all that is a bitch with our system. Dad's just started to pay for it out of pocket privately because it took so long. I'm pretty new to it- that's why I only sort of pass, but it's a hell of a lot better than it was before. Pops and Nana are good, too, though a bit less enthusiastic. Grandma and Grandpa don't really get it, but they don't misgender me or anything. Aunt and Uncle Petunia… Are pretty vocally against it. Petunia's kind of a TERF- google it lol, too long of an explanation. Dudley isn't bad, though. It's the first time I've seen him think for himself other than go along with whatever his parents think. Idrk what Uncle Charlus thinks of it, idek if he knows. I assumed Pops has told him, though._

It's good that most of them are supportive. I'm sorry about your aunt and uncle, though.

And your friends? How did they react?

 _Ron said he'd always gotten the 'vibe' from me, though he has yet to adequately explain what the fuck THAT means. Mione's really good with it- almost coddling, though, which is a bit infantilizing. I've got a few others who were good with it- Neville, Luna, Hannah. A few who were meh about it- Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati. I had a girlfriend when I came out- the first person I came out to- and she… Took it distinctly less well. Makes it very awkward, especially since we're both still in the same friend group and she's Ron's little sister._

I'm sorry

 _It's alright. We don't hate each other or anything, it's just… Hard, I guess. To lose such a close friend and a long-term girlfriend just for… Being who I am._

She sounds like she sucks, anyway. Better off without her.

 _I guess_

You've got a lot of friends, lol, but you didn't mention Pansy?

 _Idrk if we're friends. There was some, erm, drama a while back about bathrooms, and we sort of teamed up on it because it affected us both, and we talk in Chem sometimes/help each other with homework, but we're not… 'friends'. Plus, before she came out, she was a really mean person- like, she's still a bitch, but she was a fucking cunt back in elementary. And I get it, now, with what I know about her (kind of private, maybe talk to her if you wanna know?) but it's still… Hard, sometimes, to be around her. She did a lot of bad stuff._

I'm so sorry.

Drama about bathrooms?

 _A few local parents didn't like that she uses the ladies' room, and they bullied the school into making her use the teacher's washroom, but that's so far away and they wouldn't give her a key. And then they had to make me do it, too, to be 'fair'... Our parents were pissed. Hers aren't even supportive of the trans thing (still deadname her, call her 'he') but they were still pissed, and they're bloody loaded, so we got it all straightened out in the end. I don't even think it was legal- like, trans people have rights and protections- but still. That was all last year, though._

God. People need to mind their own business

 _Ikr_

And her parents sound like cunts

 _Oh, yeah. You don't know the half of it, mate_

I have to run now. Talk later?

 _Sure thing. Have fun. Make sure you collapse onto your bum, so your pretty face doesn't get all purple and bloated._

Immediately after sending it, anxiety washed over me. _I called him pretty_. He was going to think I was weird. _He knows I'm straight, though- Pansy told him._

And then- _how straight can you be if you think another boy is pretty?_

Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Moony.

"Yes," I said. "Mom and Dad are ignoring me,"

"Prongs' at work," he said. _Oh, yeah_. "And your mam's probably watching those god-awful shows she likes so much," He sat beside me, looking at my screen. Typed out were notes in a bullet format about every family member I knew. "What are you thinking of doing?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe like… A journal? Like, a first person point of view about, like, figuring it all out? Seems more personal,"

"That's a very good idea, Harry," he said happily.

"And it lets me make it more subjective, adding more personality and opinion into it. Really, I just want to chat shit about Aunt Petunia, but it _seems_ intellectual and creative, and that's what really matters,"

He laughed fondly. "Wonderful. You really are your parents' son,"

I grinned. "Can I include you and Paddy and Tonks and Wormy? I know you're not _technically_ related, but-"

"Of course," he said warmly, putting an arm around me and kissing my head. I heard snickering behind me. For the rest of the hour, he helped me take notes on the four of them, though I didn't delve into their families.

When the bell rang, I retrieved Hermione from the office. She looked exhausted, and a little sad, but she was no longer scribbling. She let me glumly lead her to the cafeteria, where Ron was waiting for us, already eating. Neville, Luna, Hannah, Seamus, Lavender, and Dean joined us shortly thereafter, then finally- Ginny and Draco. Draco sat next to me.

"How was your run?" I asked, looking at his sweaty, reddened face. He glared at me, and I smiled.

"Who's that?" asked Ron.

"Everybody, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, Hannah, Lavender, Seamus, Dean, and you know Ginny, I assume,"

"Yeah," he said. "She gave me your number,"

"Yeah," I said. "Thanks for that, by the way, Ginny,"

"Mhm," she said.

He glanced at her, then Lavender, then Hermione, then Ron, then quickly back at Ginny, and finally raised his eyebrows at me. I ignored him.

Pansy popped up behind Draco and I, wrapping her arms around us. "'Sup, fags?"

"Don't say that," I muttered, annoyed. She rolled her sparkly blue eyes.

"Whatever. My friends are ditching lunch, so I have nowhere to sit, so you all are blessed with my presence,"

"No one here likes you, cunt," said Ginny. Pansy flashed her a brilliant, dazzling smile, a predatory gleam in her eyes. _Oh, no_.

"Can we just- get along, maybe?" asked Neville, sounding tired.

"I second that," said Hannah.

"Seriously?" demanded Ginny. "Do you remember-"

"We all remember, Ginny," said Hermione softly. "But it doesn't matter now,"

"Just because she up and changes genders doesn't mean she isn't still a shitty person, or that she deserves anything from us," Ginny snapped.

"It's not about deserving, it's about being a decent person," Neville said.

"Even if she isn't?"

"Exactly," he said.

Ginny sighed, obviously not on the same page. She picked up her lunch and walked off.

"Ginny-" Ron called, then sighed. "I've got to go-" he scurried after his sister, lunch in hand. Hermione followed. Pansy slinked into Hermione's abandoned seat.

"I'm not the same," Pansy said softly after a moment of silence. "I'm not a saint, and it doesn't make what I did before alright. But I'm not a shitty person anymore."

"We know," said Luna softly, offering a small smile.

"Do we?" asked Seamus. "She might not beat the shit out of people or flush people's hair down the toilet anymore, but she's still a cunt," Lavender ran her hands through her long, curly hair, a pout on her face. It had been short for all of elementary school because whenever it started to grow, Pansy'd given her a swirly, and it had to be cut off again, being knotted and tangled in the toilet. One time, her scalp had bled.

"Saying mean things isn't the same thing as all the shit she did before," I argued. "People don't change overnight. It takes a long time. She's better now than she was a year ago. You can't expect her to prove herself in one glorious redemption moment."

Dean shrugged, seeming convinced, looking between Seamus and Lavender. Seamus looked pointedly at Lavender, who frowned at Pansy.

"My hair's never going to grow the same," she said.

"I'm sorry about that, Lavender," she said solemnly, her eyes sincere. "There's nothing I can say or do to change that."

Lavender looked almost accusingly at Pansy's hair, thick and posh, a stylish, asymmetric bob. With guarded eyes, Pansy glanced around the cafeteria. We'd chosen this table because it was tucked away, out of sight and out of mind. Pansy slinked down in her seat, obscuring herself further, then pulled her hair off- a _wig_. She pulled off the bald cap to reveal short, thinning hair, like a middle aged man. Pansy looked- ashamed. "I was jealous. I know that doesn't make it okay-" her voice broke, and quickly, she fixed herself. "Nothing will make it okay. But I'm not the same."

Lavender nodded, much less distrusting, almost- sad. Seamus had softened, too, and Dean was looking at the table. I clutched Pansy's hand beneath the table, and she shot me a dazzling smile this time. "I told you, you're not my type- flattered as I am,"

"You're welcome with us anytime, Pansy- unless you do something rude now." Neville said, voice kind but stern. She gave him a smile, too.

"Thank you. All of you,"

"So, what happened to your friends?"

"Daphne and Astoria are on holiday with their parents. Blaise and Theo decided to skip. Vinny and Greg are fucking losers,"

"Sorry about that," I said.

"Besides, I've decided Draco's mine. You can borrow him, of course, but he's _my_ friend. You have enough,"

"Okay," I said, amused, looking at Draco. He was smiling shyly at his hands, a little pink in the cheeks.

Lunch was good. Everyone seemed to warm up to Pansy fast enough. Our section was called up to buy lunch, and the three of us as well as Luna made our way up there. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron were eating alone. Ron gave tense nod to signify everything was fine.

Fifth and sixth hour, band and gym, were uneventful, and then, Dad picked me, Ron, and Hermione up from school. We didn't get a chance to talk until we were home.


	3. Chapter Two - Draco

The house was as cold as ever, but I knew better than to ask either of my parents to turn the heat up. Anyway, 'house' was a bit of an understatement for the modest little castle they'd bought, and I was sure if they did turn the heat on, it would cost an exorbitant amount of money- not that they couldn't afford it, or anything.

Ever since I'd realized I'd soon be out on my own, though, I started really paying attention to just how _expensive_ everything was, and just how lucky I'd been to grow up in such a wealthy family. It was… Terrifying, overwhelming.

As per usual, though, I tried not to think about it. I reclined across the plush chaise lounge, a silky, pale pink damask. I looked at my ten painted toenails, and suddenly felt a wave of anxiety- Father would kill me if he saw that, and Mother would only turn green and silent. I tried to remember what it had been like when I was younger, before I was brave enough to be feminine, when they'd adored me so. I couldn't even remember it- just that it had been that way, once, and the crippling… Angst… That came with the memory of my forced boyishness. I shuddered as I glanced at the photographs on the mantelpiece. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, to burn the pictures, and disappear into the wind.

I pictured Pansy in my mind. No taller than five seven, a stunning, feminine face, a perfect voice, an air of unmistakable femininity. Not a single hair follicle insight, save her eyebrows, her hair. I didn't want to disappear into the wind- I wanted to live in her head with her and be a woman.

That existential question again. _Am I woman? Am I trans? How do I know?_ I ran a hand through my hair. It seemed so far away, so impossible, so unreal.

My parents would kill me, maybe. Certainly disown me. I'd have nowhere to go, nowhere to live. Would I go into foster care? What would _that_ be like- other than dreadful? _God, Grandfather would definitely find and murder me- if Aunt Bella didn't, first._ I shuddered again, my face aching from being twisted with pain. I wanted to ask Harry how he'd known, but for some reason, it made me feel like- _a freak_. I had no idea why. I had no idea how to explain it- I certainly didn't think he was a freak, or Pansy. Just me. And I did not want him to know that I was a freak.

And, illogical terror aside… It felt oddly invasive. We'd just properly met; if I started grilling him on his gender and his journey up to this point, he might think I think of him strangely, or something. And again, that was most certainly not the goal. With a fretful exhale, I picked up my phone.

 _Hello_

Hey!

 _How are you?_

I'm alright. Just got home. Hbu?

 _I'm okay, I suppose. Just lonely._

 _Oh, no_ , I thought. _That could have been worded better._

Haha, you could come over. Kind of a full house, but if you don't mind, we don't.

 _Really?_

Yeah, man! The more the merrier.

 _Man._ Draco cringed. _Man. Man. Man._ Man.

What do you say?

 _How full is full?_

Me, Ron, Mione, Mom, Dad, Moony, Padfoot, and Tonks

 _Moony… Padfoot… And Tonks?_

 _Are you friends with druggies or '80s bad boys?_

Actually, that's not a bad way to describe any of them XD

Moony and Padfoot are my Uncles (more or less) and they're together. Tonks is Moony'spouse, and coincidentally, Padfoot's first cousin once removed.

… _Wow._

 _This I have to see. Send me your address._

 _As long as your parents don't mind, of course!_

They don't. 1031 Godric's Hollow. It's in the cul-de-sac near the park. See you soon.

I stood frozen outside of Harry's house. I could hear them vaguely through the open window, just laughter and happiness, but the curtains were drawn, obscuring them from my view (and, hopefully, me from theirs).

It had been a blur. I had no idea how I'd gotten here, or why I'd done the things I had before arriving. I mean, of course- I could remember them, but it was like little things that had happened to someone else had been plopped into my head.

I'd gone upstairs to change, figuring that my Rave Faggot™ look wasn't necessarily appropriate for dinner at someone else's house. I'd gone into my room, gone through my wardrobe and my closet, but _all_ of my clothes were either Rave Faggot™ or Catholic Schoolboy. So I'd gone to my parents room, to steal something casual off Father.

And now, here I was, in my mother's skinny jeans, one of my mother's loose white blouses, and one of my mother's huge, oversized cardigans, mustard and mahogany and white. I wore leather ankle booties, a chunky necklace, and I had done my hair completely differently- instead of slicked back to the nape of my neck, it was styled- like a girl.

I was not Rave Faggot™. I was not a Catholic Schoolboy. Somehow, in my mother's clothes, I felt like-

Me.

In my brief moment of courage, I knocked on the door, feeling it all flood away. My heart was pounding and I felt like I was going to be sick. Then, Harry opened the door, giving me a wide, boyish grin. "Hey,"

"Hi," I said. He didn't react at all to my outfit, or my hair, though he seemed almost surprisingly happy to see me. He took a step back and motioned me in. "Thank you," I whispered under my breath. Ron and Hermione were sitting on the loveseat, her head on his shoulder. A man who looked _exactly_ like Harry, plus a couple decades, sat in one recliner, and a woman with his exact eyes sat across from him in a matching recliner. She wore an outfit with a vibe not entirely dissimilar from mine, though hers was more 'hippy on a budget' that 'trendy mom'. On the couch, three people were sat- one, I was certain was my history teacher, Mr. Lupin. On one side, a woman(?) with neon pink hair, vibrant makeup, and very punk-rock-chic clothes sat; on the other a… Person… Sat, with long, curly black hair, an entirely androgynous (though downright gorgeous, and strangely familiar) face, and a short, dark beard. They, too, wore vibrant makeup, though while hers(?) was more neon pink and hot, theirs(?) was more… Black and navy blue. They wore several dark layers, including a long, loose black skirt, their muscular, hairy legs poking out from beneath, ending in black birkenstocks.

"This is my Mom, my Dad, Tonks, Moony, and Padfoot," said Harry, pointing to them each. "And this is Draco Malfoy,"

All five of them seemed to be giving me very strange looks. Mrs. Potter looked curious, vaguely amused. Mr. Potter looked unsure, tentative. Tonks looked surprised, and had a large grin on her(?) face. Moony was eyeing my outfit wordlessly, with a small frown. Padfoot seemed downright suspicious, for some reason, their silvery-blue eyes narrowed at me. "Nice to meet you all. Thanks for having me," I managed, as quietly as I could without actually whispering.

"I've heard of your parents," said Mr. Potter. "I think,"

"Yeah," said Padfoot, his voice… Deep, dark, almost- angry. "Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy,"

"Um," I said, shifting. "Yep." I felt Harry lean against me gently, reassuringly. We had been the same height, but with my heels I was taller. My stomach lurched.

"He's a good kid," said Moony- Mr. Lupin. I wasn't sure what to call him.

 _Oh_ , I thought suddenly- Pansy's words came back to me. _Tonks is the spouse; pronoun indifferent, non-binary_. I didn't remember a mention of Padfoot.

Padfoot glanced at him for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Okay,"

"Do you know them?" I asked, though I felt like I probably ought not.

They made a sour face. "Unfortunately," they muttered. "Narcissa is my cousin,"

I blinked once, then twice, and several times more. _Cousin_? Sirius or Regulus, then- definitely Sirius. I felt the realization blossom on my face, and he gave a sour smile. _That meant Tonks is my cousin, too_. I looked at her, and she was still examining me.

"She does kinda look like her mom, eh? In the face, anyway- the hair's all Lucius. Nose, too, I reckon- and chin. Pretty even mix, actually," muttered Tonks. _She_. My heart fluttered. _She_.

"He," said Harry gently, and I winced. Tonks quirked a brow and said nothing, but Harry hadn't seemed to notice, and no one else seemed to react. _She_.

"Anyway," said Mrs. Potter, in a cheery Welsh accent. "Come in, dear, and close the door." She got to her feet as I did as I was bade, walking close and hugging me. She was taller than me, and I liked that. _She_.

That was stupid. Height had nothing to do with it. _Stop being dumb, Draco._

She released me, then looked me up and down, beaming. I tried not to flush or squirm under the unusual attention. "I love your cardigan! You've got to let me steal it," she said.

I opened my mouth, laughed uncomfortably, blushing. It took me a solid five seconds to respond. _Idiot_. "Thank you, ma'am," I said softly. Did I say okay? Did I tell her I'd stolen it from my mother? I tried not to fret.

"Oh," she said, wincing. "Am I really that old already?"

I laughed again, softly, once more unsure how to respond. She didn't seem bothered by my incompetence, though, instead, gently rubbing my arm and returning to her chair. Subconsciously, I gently leaned into Harry like he had me, and he did it again reassuringly. _Friendo_. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me.

"Dinner's on the way, by the way," said Mr. Potter. "We had so many people coming over, we figured we'd make a big'un- venison roast. Tunie- Lily's sister- she made the recipe, supposedly, and by God, it's the only good thing that woman's ever done," he said. Mrs. Potter giggled, slapping him playfully on the arm.

"Oh, hush! That's my sister, you know," she chided.

"And your sister makes the best venison roast," he said.

Once again, I was struck by the fact that I was, indeed, a grade-A idiot. "Um," I said. "Will there be anything with it?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes- we've got mashed potatoes, applesauce, asparagus, and some delicious fresh bread and apple butter. There's apple in the roast, too- big apple theme, I suppose,"

"Very autumnal," I said softly, and he smiled.

"Exactly! We'll pretend I did that on purpose, then?" he asked with a grin. I nodded. "Oh, and we have lots of different types of tea and coffee- Lily prefers tea, she does, but I'm a coffee man through and through- a few types of hot chocolate, for Harry- some apple cider, a bit of soda. Some wine, too, though you'd only get a bit of that,"

"Cider sounds amazing," I said.

"You should invite Draco over often, Harry," said Lily with a bright smile. "Your father needs someone who's actually interested in his detailed menus to ramble on to,"

I giggled softly while James shot her a playful look. Harry nudged me again softly, and I nudged him back. Something in the kitchen beeped, and James scurried off; a few moments later, he called for us all to wash our hands, ready our drinks. I followed Harry to a small powder room while the others went off to find other sinks.

"Your family's lovely," I said softly.

"Yeah," he said brightly. He glanced at my outfit. "You look really nice, by the way,"

I felt myself turn crimson. "Thank you," I said. "I've never worn anything like this before,"

He looked at my outfit again. "It's not that different from what you had on earlier," he said. I gave a soft, dismissive laugh.

"It really is."

"Well, I like them both," he said.

"Well, I like this better," I said.

"Well, then I do, too,"

"Okay,"

"Okay."

Me and Harry sat next to each other. There were only eight chairs, so someone had wheeled an office chair up, and Ron sat in it next to Hermione, who was next to Tonks and Moony. Sirius was on the other side of Harry, across from Moony, next to James, and I was next to Lily.

"Ladies first," said James, motioning to the food. Hermione, Lily, and Tonks served themselves, and I sat there, my arms made out of lead, my heart heavy. _She. She. She._ She. When they were done, James motioned to me. I felt almost- sick. Harry and Ron got theirs at the same time, then Sirius, Lupin, and James. "Oh, come on, Draco," said James, looking over at my plate, which consisted solely of applesauce, asparagus, and a little bread.

"You're already so skinny," said Lily softly, jabbing me gently in the ribs. Or- as gently as one could jab. It still hurt.

"I'm alright," I said, flushing. _I'm vegan_ is what I should have said, but I didn't, and James scooped up some roast and some potatoes, reaching over the table to plop them onto my plate. I stared at them for a long moment. "Thank you," I said, instead of _I'm vegan_. I scooped some of the meat onto my fork. It smelled- strange, and very much not like something one should eat. And also, a lot like apples. Trying not to shiver with dread, I put it in my mouth, and very carefully did not wince as I ate.

It was horrible.

No- the sauce was delightful. But the texture of the meat- I forced every bite down. I was full before I'd even gotten to another dish. Slowly, I ate the potatoes- they were quite good, actually, though strangely… Heavy. My asparagus had gone cold and limp (I always ate that, first, but I'd been distracted), but I forced that down, too. I ate the bread with what was left of the sauce, then thankfully started on my cider.

I was near bursting when it was over, and my stomach _ached_. Lily offered me more, and I declined softly. When the dishes had been cleared and food put away, we all moved back into the living room. Harry plopped onto the floor, legs out in front of him, his head against the arm of the loveseat, and I lowered myself onto the ground next to him, sitting cross legged. Our knees were touching. Warm, I pulled my cardigan off and set it beside me. I felt a burst of glee as Harry glanced at me again.

"God, I'm stuffed," said Ron.

"Oh, yeah," said Lupin, sounding- tired, pained.

"Yep," concurred James.

"I'd kill for some ice cream," Ron said wistfully. Hermione gave a loud, resigned sigh.

"We have a bunch," said Harry.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You know- Wormy makes it, drops it by sometimes. Lots of different flavors, you'll have to check,"

Ron groaned. "I will, when I can move again,"

"French vanilla ice cream," said Lily wistfully. "Goes great with pumpkin spice tea,"

"German chocolate and espresso," countered James.

"I second that," said Tonks.

"Pistachio, and a nice glass of milk," Remus offered.

"Neapolitan, and vodka," Sirius said.

"Cookies and cream and tea with milk," said Hermione.

"Fudge brownie," said Ron. "And warn apple cider."

"Blueberry pomegranate and chocolate and chocolate milk," said Harry.

Everyone looked at me expectantly. "I- I don't know," I said softly.

"C'mon, mate," said Ron. "Everyone's got a favorite flavor of ice cream,"

"I've never- had ice cream," I said. _Idiot!_ I could have said chocolate, or vanilla, or strawberry, or mint, or any old thing.

"Never had ice cream?" demanded Harry, sitting up. Gently, I shook my head. He stood, grabbing my hand along the way, and dragged me into the kitchen. He opened the freezer and pointed a vast array of tubs, all stacked and labelled. Vanilla, chocolate, and blueberry pomegranate and chocolate were at the forefront. He dug out the latter. "Why in the fuck not?"

"I'm vegan," I whispered, squirming. He froze and looked at me, realization blossoming on his face. His eyes softened.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked quietly.

I looked at my feet. "I didn't want to be rude- I should have mentioned it when you invited me, but I wasn't even thinking about it…"

"Draco," Harry said softly. He touched my arm gently with his free hand. "It wouldn't have been rude, not at all,"

"I'm sorry," I said reflexively.

"For what?" he asked, rubbing my arm. I felt the strange urge to lean into him. _Why am I so weird?_

"I don't know," I said softly. He set the ice cream down and led me back to the living room. They'd moved onto the subject of sports, and I did not care enough to join in. Luckily, though, it didn't seem like Harry was all that into it, either.

"Wanna go for a walk?" he asked after a while.

"Sure," I said. "I should probably get home soon, though,"

He nodded, then hit Ron in the knee. He and Hermione were snogging; Lupin, Sirius, and Tonks had left, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter were in the next room for ice cream. Ron groaned but did not peel himself away from his girlfriend. "Wanna go for a walk?" Ron gave a groan that seemed to signal 'no', as Harry stood and helped me to my feet. "Walking Draco home, be back soon!"

"Be safe!" called James.

"We love you!" added Lily.

"Love you, too!" Harry called, leading me out the door.

My parents hadn't even asked where I was going when I told them I was leaving.

The walk was chilly, and I rubbed my bare arms, staring at my feet as we went. We were surrounded by a surprisingly comfortable silence. It was weird to think we'd just met; he felt so familiar, so safe, so… Good. I shivered, then shuddered, then leaned into Harry. He gave me a weird look, a slightly confused grin on his face, and I felt myself to crimson and pull away. _Freak_. Of course you had to ruin it. He looked almost sad, but said nothing. I stared down at my boots- or rather, my mother's boots- ashamed and restless and _cold_.

"How did you know you were a boy?" I asked suddenly.

He inhaled slowly. "I dunno. I guess I didn't, really, until I started… Trying it, you know. I mean- I'd always felt- _different_. But never really like a boy, I guess- like a girl who wanted to be a boy, more like. Maybe that was just because I didn't think I _could_ already be one- I don't know. It's pretty different for everyone. I guess Pansy had been insisting she was a girl since she was a tyke."

I said nothing, absorbing that. I swallowed. Did I tell him I'd been unsure for- what, almost two years now? Did I tell him about my strange cross-dressing habit as a child, or my weird urges to steal my mother's clothes, or to wake up one day a natural born woman- a cis woman? I was silent for a long time. "I really liked it when Tonks called me 'she'," I said softly.

He looked at me for a moment, a little surprised, thoughtful. "Okay,"

"That's not the only- I mean, for a while now, I've been- I-" I shuddered, feeling flustered and dumb and overwhelmed. He stopped, so I stopped, and he touched my arm.

"It's okay," he said softly. "You can talk to me."

I sighed, looking into his eyes. They were tender, sincere, and so, so beautiful. Before I could stop myself, I leaned against him, my head on his shoulder, my arms around him. Gently, he wrapped his arms around my neck, cheek resting on my hair. "Thank you," I managed.

"Of course," he said.

"You're a really nice guy,"

I felt him smile against my head. "I've been told, occasionally."

"Please don't tell anyone- not until I _know_ ," I pleaded.

"Whatever you want," he said, his hand stroking my back. I shivered. _This is perfect. Everything is perfect_. He was warm and solid and strong, and he held me like he was born to do it, fitting against me, tender and strong all at once. I wanted to melt into his arms and never leave them.

"Will you call me she? Secretly?"

He smiled wider. "Yes,"

"Do you think I'm a girl?"

There was a pause, then his hands slid to my waist and gently pushed me to my feet. His warm hands touched my cheek, and I felt flushed and light headed. He looked into my eyes. It was like the rest of the world had disappeared- it was _so_ cliche, but in that moment, I really didn't care. "I can't know that. Only you can." he stroked my cheek with a thumb. That had not been the answer I'd been looking for. He studied my face. "There's no one way to be a girl. There's no way that is exclusive to girls. It's all messy, and complicated, sometimes, for some people. And only you will ever be able to figure that out for yourself," he said.

I looked down at our feet. They were probably the same size, though mine were squashed into shoes too small for me. "I want you to think I'm a girl," I said. "No- I want you to _feel_ that I _am_ a girl,"

"It sounds to me like you're a girl, then," he said softly.

I put my head on his shoulder again, and he pulled me close, his breath on my ear, his lips almost touching my temple. He opened his mouth, then closed it. I could die, right there, and my life would be perfect, just because of that moment. He rubbed my back again. "I don't want to go home,"

"I'm sorry," he said.

Reluctantly, I pulled away. I pointed to my house, barely illuminated in the moonlight. "There," I said.

"Oh, shit," he said. "We're close."

"Yes,"

"Do you want me to walk you to the door?" he asked, already started to walk. I touched his shoulder.

"No, thank you,"

"Oh," he said, and turned to face me. He smiled, but it wasn't quite as bright as I was used to.

"You can walk me to the gate, though," I said.

"Okay,"

We walked slowly, our arms brushing up against each other. The white peacocks were prancing upon the lawn, as always, and Harry gawked at them. We stopped at the gate, turning to each other. We were almost touching, our arms at our respective sides. My feet hurt and I was so tired, but somehow, the absolute last thing I wanted to do was walk away. He stood there, studying my face, then the ground, and my face again, over and over, looking content. I leaned in slightly, my breath hitching, and he inhaled sharply, eyes closing. We hovered there, almost kissing, for a moment, and then, emboldened, I leaned in, and-

He pulled away just before our lips could touch, sucking in another sharp breath. I leaned back, face on fire, feeling- horrified, cold, empty, mortified. I stared at the ground, blood pumping in my ears. _Oh_. "I'm straight," he said, sounding out of breath.

 _Oh_. I hugged myself, staring at the ground. I couldn't speak. Suddenly, I wanted to be anywhere else- anywhere at all.

"So, like," he said, sounding flustered. "If you are a girl, that's- great. I… Already think you're pretty. I-" I looked up at him, startled. My heart was pounding, and for some reason, everything ached. Anticipation flooded me. _He thinks I'm pretty. He-_ he _thinks_ I'm _pretty. He thinks I'm_ pretty. "But, if it turns out you're not… I just…" he hugged himself. "Do you know what I'm trying to say?"

"No," I said softly.

He leaned his forehead on mine, and a bit of that happy, dopey feeling rushed back. He touched my cheek with one hand. "I don't want to do anything until you know you're a girl, okay?"

"Okay," I said. Trying to make sense of our evening with me as anything _but_ a girl seemed like some daunting, impossible task. I closed my eyes.

"You're so gorgeous," he breathed after a moment. I shuddered, felt his nose on my cheek, his breath on my lips, and suddenly- I wanted a lot more than just a kiss. I shuddered again, flushing, biting my lip. "Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck." I felt him grab me suddenly but not roughly, pulling my hips to his, and suddenly, he kissed me surely on the lips. With a surprised and pleased moan, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he leaned over me just a bit, so he was above me, and I was tucked against him, and it was wonderful. He kissed me deeply for a long moment, then pulled away, taking a few steps back as if that were the only way to keep himself off of me. I stared at his handsome face, alight with desire and a little embarrassment, his eyes dark and- _hungry_. I shuddered yet again, then smiled. I was flushed and happy, filled with a giddy glee, and I felt- great. High on life. On top of the world. Et cetera, et cetera. I gripped his hand in mine for a moment.

"Goodnight, Harry,"

He studied me for a moment longer. "Goodnight,"

"Thank you for- everything," I said. _For dinner, for the walk, for the talk… And most of all, the kiss_. My lips were tingling, desperate for his. I wanted him to hold me under him and kiss me until we _died_.

"Of course," he said.

It was like my spirit left my body as I walked into the gate, away from him. I didn't look back- I couldn't. I'd run right back to him and follow him home if I did. I couldn't even think about what was going to happen, but a strong foreboding feeling filled my chest- but I didn't really _feel_ it, because my spirit- the real me- was floating above my body, watching me walk inside.

Father, in his robe, perusing through the mail, was standing in the parlour. I tried to move slowly, so as to not alarm him and make him look up, but the boots made sound against the stone floor. _Damnit_. "Draco?"

I froze. He was staring at me, his face- _set_ , trying to stay composed. "Yes?" I asked.

He said nothing, just stared very unhappily down at my clothing. Mother's clothing. He certainly knew that. "Where were you?" he asked, almost reluctantly.

"Someone's house," I said dully. "We met at school. He was having a few friends over, asked me to join them."

"Mmm," he said disapprovingly. "A… Boy…" he said. He almost glared at my shirt. "Another homosexual?"

"No," I said, trying not to sound angry. "Harry's straight,"

"Mmm," he said, and quirked a brow, still staring at my clothes. I turned crimson, looking away.

"Are we done?" I asked suddenly.

"You'd better keep your- endeavors, rather quiet," he said, his voice cold. "But it would be best to get it out of your system before you're married,"

The life he planned for me flashed before my eyes, and I suddenly felt sick. That short-haired, quietly debonair man with a wife and two blonde children was not me. He never would be. I didn't want him to be. In an uncharacteristic moment of courage, I turned to him. "I'm not a homosexual, Father. I'm a woman. Harry didn't kiss me because he's gay, he kissed me because he thinks I'm pretty, and I kissed him because he's kind and understanding. And if you have a problem with that or want me to change- well, that's just too bad," I said. It started off strong, but as he stared impassively at me, coldly at me, I felt myself start to shake, my voice faltering, my eyes tearing up. He quirked one brow.

"Are you done?" he asked, his voice- _mocking_. I inhaled sharply.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I snapped, then spun, stalking towards my room. "Tell Mother she isn't getting her cardigan back!"


	4. Chapter Three - Harry

The walk back home was long and silent. The high from the kiss had faded so quickly as I walked away from her. I felt- drained, and tired, and a little afraid, but not bad.

I had a strange thought after a while, about halfway home. I wished Draco had been my first kiss, not Ginny.

And then I felt very, very guilty. What Ginny and I had had was special, and it played a big part in making us who we were today. I shouldn't wish it hadn't happened; it needed to happen. But thinking of that stupid sixth grade night, playing truth or dare, and sharing a short, sloppy, inexpert kiss suddenly made me feel almost- sick. That wasn't what I wanted to be my first kiss.

Draco had been so sweet and scared and soft and sad. Draco had been desperate and demure, confused and unsure. She'd fit against me like a puzzle piece, and she'd looked at me like I was- _everything_ she wanted, everything she needed. She'd kissed me back so softly, and the little sounds she'd made had driven me crazy. We had kissed for no more than five, ten seconds, and yet, I was still reeling from the fire she'd awakened in me. It had been so surreal, so perfect, so… I didn't even know anymore adjectives to describe it.

It felt almost strange to call her Draco in my head. A brief thought of someone calling me he and him, but still _Henriette_ flashed through my mind, and I cringed. But she hadn't told me not to call her Draco; she'd told me to call her she.

 _She_. She did feel like a she to me. Was that why I found her so- enthralling? Had I sensed her innate womanness that day in the park? Or did I like guys? I'd never been able to picture myself with another guy. I didn't want to be with a guy, even a feminine one. I liked _girls_. And yet, I'd liked Draco before she'd tentatively come out to me… And it just didn't make sense that I'd somehow intuitively known the truth of her.

I decided, as I entered the cul-de-sac, that it didn't matter. If Draco was a she and we got together, it certainly wouldn't. If Draco wasn't a she afterall (which somehow seemed impossible to me), we would not get together. Probably. The thought of not being with her made me frown, made my jaw clench. _What the hell is going on?_

I opened the door to see an empty couch, Mom and Dad sitting in their chairs, holding hands across the table in between them. "Where'd they go?"

"Molly picked them up," said Lily.

"Oh," I said with a frown. "Okay,"

"You were gone for a bit," said James.

 _He, not she, when talking to other people._ I hoped I wouldn't mess up too often. "He lives on the rich side of town,"

"'Course he does," said Lily. "If his mother is Paddy's cousin,"

"God, I'm never going to get over how weird that is," I muttered.

"It's weird to be friends with Paddy's cousin's kid?"

I paused. She hadn't asked me not to mention the kiss… And it wasn't like my parents would do or say anything… "We kissed," I allowed softly.

I saw Dad straighten and look at me, trying to be nonchalant, trying not to look surprised. Mom nodded slowly after a moment. "So," he said. "You're- boyfriends? You like boys now?"

"No," I said. "I don't know." God, I wished I could talk to them about it. I'd text her later, see if that was okay- maybe she just didn't want it around school? No- maybe in person that would be better. We'd talk tomorrow.

"Okay," he said softly.

"Whatever makes you happy, hon," said Mom with a smile. I returned it.

"He-his are pretty," I whispered, hoping they didn't notice my little slip up. If they did, they didn't react.

"Yes," said Mom.

"How old is he?"

"My age. Sixteen. Birthday's in June, though,"

"A gemini and a leo," said Mom thoughtfully. "Not a bad match,"

"Okay," I said. "I'm gonna go to bed,"

"Goodnight, sweetie," she said.

"Night, kiddo," said Dad.

"Night. Love you guys,"

"Love you, too,"

Hi.

I'm glad we kissed. I hope we can again.

I guess you're asleep. Goodnight.

I was awake before the sun rose, staring unhappily at the ceiling. Sleep hadn't come easily, and now, I was awake hours before I had to be, restless, lonely. I cranked one out to pass the time- much needed, after last night- then checked my phone.

 _Me too_

How did you sleep? You're up early, haha

She didn't respond. I yearned for her. It was _so weird_ feeling so attached to her already. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. Ginny and I had been together for seven years, and as long as I saw her a couple times a week, even briefly, I was more than alright.

It bothered me that my mind kept comparing her to Ginny.

Draco didn't respond. Eventually, when I heard my parents stirring in the kitchen, I got dressed and went downstairs. Mom hadn't brushed her hair yet, and she was wearing Dad's oversized Gryffindor shirt over flannel pajama pants. Dad was in boxers and bunny slippers, showing off his ever-hairer, ever-less-muscular chest. They seemed surprised to see me so early (they probably would have changed, otherwise) but said nothing. I sat wordlessly at the table while Dad cooked.

"Oh," I said after a while, when I remembered. "You guys never texted me back about that history project Moony gave us,"

"Oh, right," said Mom. She sat at the table across from me. "I talked to Albus about bringing you into the library this weekend, and he said that's fine. Dolores was _not_ happy about it, but there really isn't anything she can do. She threatened to go complain to the Dean, but with Fudge gone and Scrimgeour in charge, it'll be fine."

"Can't you guys just help me?" I asked.

Dad laughed. Mom shot me a look, and I thought, _here we go_. "I am a researcher for a living, Harry. Not only do I not have the desire to do my job all day long- especially not for free- I, as a mother, would never allow my son to skate by on someone else's work. Also-" she raised her chin into the air. "I am a researcher. No son of mine is going to just take someone else's word- he's going to dig in, get to the truth of things on his own, find the story and tell it dutifully, clearly, concisely-"

"Okay, Mom," I said. "I get it. Sorry I asked."

Dad dished out our corned beef hash, then sat down to eat. "God, I love the smell of meat,"

"Oh," I said. "By the way- he was too nervous to say anything last night, but Draco's vegan. That's why he didn't get any potatoes or roast last night,"

Mom's mouth opened, and Dad looked at me, startled. "He ate it," she said.

"He didn't want to be rude,"

"The asparagus had butter on it," Dad said. I shrugged. "Bread isn't vegan, either." I shrugged again.

"That's why he's never had ice cream," Mom realized. I nodded. "Poor baby," she said, then glared at Dad.

"I didn't know!" he said.

"You should have let him be," Mom scolded, as if she hadn't called Draco scrawny and jabbed him in the ribs. _Her_. Goddamnit. Switching back and forth was throwing me off. "Oh, and he left his sweater here, by the way,"

"Huh?"

"His cardigan? It was on the living room floor. I hung it up by the front door. You ought to bring it to him today,"

"Okay," I said.

"So," said Dad. "Do you have- anything else you want to talk about, concerning him? How you feel about him, or the fact that he's a guy, or… Anything?"

I stared at my food for a long moment. "Yeah. But… He asked me not to tell anyone, and while I'm pretty sure you guys would be fine, I don't wanna say anything he doesn't want me to, you know?"

"You guys didn't-" Dad made a weird motion. I assumed he meant sex.

"No, Dad," I said, trying not to roll my eyes. "Believe you me, I'll tell you about that."

"Oh, God," said Mom suddenly. "Do we have to have the talk, then?"

"Wait 'till marriage, but if I don't, use condoms." I said. "Voila, we've talked,"

"You're old enough," said Dad. "Legally. Just be safe, and smart, and- most importantly- get consent, always."

Mom looked at Dad like he'd done something impressive, all starry-eyed. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah."

"Cool. Got it."

"And not while we're in the house, that's gross," said Mom. "We don't do it when you're here, so give us the same courtesy."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I didn't want to know. _I do not want to know_. "Okay."

"Do you need condoms?" asked Dad.

"We're not having sex anytime soon," I said.

"Maybe so, but it's good to be prepared, just in case. You don't wanna get halfway there, then realize you don't have any rubbers," he said. "Believe me, I've been there,"

"With _who_?" demanded Mom.

"We haven't always been together," he countered. She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, a bit too much information, but sure. Condoms."

"Okay. Ask him what size he is," said Dad.

"I'm absolutely not going to do that," I said.

"Harry-"

"That's weird!" I said, laughing gently. "That's so weird,"

"Okay, I'll talk to him-"

"No," I said suddenly, solemnly. He looked at me. "Please, Dad. Do not do that."

"Why not?"

"Please. Tell me you won't do that." I pleaded.

He appraised me for a moment, then gave a single, curt nod. "Okay, son,"

"Thank you," I picked up me and Mom's plates. "Can I get a ride again? I'm kind of ansty to see him,"

"Sure thing," said Dad with a grin. "You could have a ride everyday, you know that, right?"

"I like to walk, usually," I said.

When we were in the car, our conversation got significantly less comfortable. "So," he said. "If you don't mind my asking. How are you… Gonna have sex?"

"What?" I very much did mind his asking, actually.

"You know. I assume the normal way would make you dysphoric,"

 _Normal_. Yikes. "I don't know," I muttered. "I'm not a bottom, though."

"You don't have a penis," he said. I winced, and he apologized. "I just- I'm sorry for being an ass, bud, but I just… Don't understand,"

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, I guess," I said.

"Okay,"

I rubbed my thumb into the soft fabric of Draco's cardigan. I missed her, so much.

Ron and Hermione weren't waiting for me, but I found him in first period, doodling what looked like Romulus and Honorata on his desk in pencil. He wasn't much of an artist, but if he wanted, he could probably pass it off as half-decent clip art. "Hey," I said, sitting in my seat.

"Hey," he grunted, distracted.

"Did you write anymore?"

"No," he said, voice darkening. "Was busy. Talk about it later,"

"Is everything okay?"

Ron's jaw clenched. "I guess."

He was uncharacteristically silent, and he paid even less attention than usual. I wanted to talk about Draco- to tell Ron everything. I didn't. I couldn't. And Ron didn't seem to be in any state to listen, either.

Hermione didn't meet us before second period. I didn't ask Ron about it. We parted ways, and I sat in my seat.

"Macmillan, Ernie!"

"Here,"

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Silence.

"Parkinson, Pansy!"

"Here,"

"Potter, Hen-"

"Here," I said, staring at the empty seat in front of me, frowning. I guess it was a good thing I'd left the cardigan in my locker. I pulled out my phone.

Are you sick?

I barely got any work done, and I kept glancing at my phone. There was only twenty minutes of class left when she _finally_ responded.

 _no_

Are you okay?

A long pause- four minutes.

 _Not really_

My heart pounded.

Do you need anything? Is everything alright?

 _I need you_

Come to school

 _I can't_

Where are you?

 _The park._

 _Near your house, I guess._

Go to my house. Dad's gone, but Mom's there. I'll have her pick me up early.

 _I can't_

 _I can't see anyone_

 _Not like this_

 _Just you._

Just me. _Just me._ I stood up, packing up my things. Miss Pince eyed me. "I'm really sorry Miss Pince," I said, handing her my stuff.

"What do you think you're-"

I walked out. I was halfway down the hall when I heard someone scurrying towards me; I glanced over my shoulder and saw Pansy, carrying the hall pass.

Stay put.

 _Okay_

"What the fuck, Potter?" asked Pansy in a low hiss.

"Long story," I said.

"I've got time- unlike you, I got _permission_ to leave," she said.

"I'm not allowed to say," I admitted. She rolled her eyes. I opened my locker and grabbed my things, tucking the cardigan into my backpack. "Go back."

"No," she said fiercely.

I spun to face her. "I'm leaving, Pansy. I'm gonna be in enough shit after this, anyway. Please, just leave me alone,"

"You don't have to be in any shit!" she exclaimed. "Go back to class. Apologize to Miss Pince."

"I can't," I said. "I have to do something."

"You _have_ to?" she said snobbishly.

"Yes." I said harshly, my voice dropping several octaves. She frowned, studying my face. I didn't have time for this. Just as I was about to walk away, she sighed.

"Fine."

We walked away; her, towards class, and I, towards the nearest exit.

I almost didn't recognize her.

Her nigh-white hair had been cut short, the sides buzzed. She wore men's slacks and a polo, fancy loafers, an expensive watch. Tears were streaming down her pretty face. She didn't look like a pretty, androgynous twink. She looked like a rich white guy. She looked up at me. She looked… Devastated. Heartbroken. "I look-" she started. Her face screwed up, her mouth working, trying to find the words.

I pulled her close and stroked her back, swaying gently. My heart was searing with second-hand pain, mourning with her. Her hair was still soft, and it still smelled like vanilla custard. She still felt the same to me, but I knew how she felt- like the spirit of a battered, rejected ego, shoved inside a strange and unfamiliar shell, one that poked and prodded her and reminded her of itself every single second.

She felt dysphoric, and it was horrible.

"You don't look like you," I said softly. "But you're still beautiful."

That was it. She began to sob into my shoulder. I stroked her back, nudging my cheek against her soft and prickly hair. She clung to me. "I don't have anywhere to go," she whimpered. "I can't go home. I can't- I can't- I can't _be_ who they want me to be," she pulled back just enough to look at me, and I put my forehead on hers. It was so much easier without her heels, so much _less_ dysphoria-inducing. "This isn't me. I don't know who he is, but he isn't me."

"It's okay," I whispered. I kissed her softly, briefly. "It's okay, baby. Come home- I'll make Mom give you some clothes before she even sees you, if you want."

She buried her face against my neck, holding me tighter. We stood there for a long time before she nodded, still looking miserable, and let me lead her by the hand to my house. I opened the door. "Mom! It's me. Everything's alright- where are you?"

"Kitchen!" she said. I could hear her approaching.

"Stop! Everything's alright. This is gonna sound super weird, alright?"

"Alright…" She said.

"Draco's with me. She needs to borrow an outfit, and you can't look at her until she's gotten dressed." She leaned into me, closing her eyes, squeezing my hand. I squeezed back.

"Okay," Mom said. "I'm facing the window. The tall dresser's mine- stay _out_ of the top drawer,"

"Thank you so much," I said, leading Draco to my parents room.

"Do I need to call the school?" Mom asked as we walked passed. Thankfully, she'd gotten dressed.

"Yes," I said. "Thank you. I'm _so_ sorry- we'll explain in a minute,"

"You'd better," said Mom, pulling out her phone.

I closed the door behind Draco and I. I stroked a thumb against her cheek, then kissed her softly. "Everything's okay. Mom's going to make sure of it,"

"Thank you," she said, her voice cracking. "So much," her face started to screw up again, and I pulled her close, holding her. I peppered her head and her ear with small kisses. She was so soft and cool against me. I never wanted to let her go. She seemed to catch sight of something in the closet behind me, and I turned to see a pale cream sundress, spaghetti straps, floor-length hemline, a bunch of dark flowers on it.

"Don't mention it, baby. Do you wanna wear the dress?"

She looked down. "Can I?" she asked shyly.

"Yeah," I said, and picked it up. "Should fit pretty well- you and Mom are the same height, and both pretty thin, so." I set it down on the bed, then glanced at Draco's clothes. "Should I let you get dressed?"

She got a small smile. "Yes, please,"

I kissed her again, then slipped out of the room. Mom looked at me, still on the phone. I set my backpack on a dining room chair. Mom hang up shortly thereafter.

"There, you're excused," she said. "This _better_ be more than a closet raid-"

"Yes," I said. "She took a dress, by the way. From the closet,"

Mom nodded, then glanced at the door. "She?"

"She."

Mom nodded again. "That makes sense," she whispered softly.

Draco gently opened the door, walking out slowly, one arm bent behind her back. She looked just as miserable, her silver eyes staring despondently at the tile floor.

"Pretty," I said. She looked at me.

"I look like a freak," she breathed softly.

"No, you don't, honey," said Mom, walking behind her. "Ah, let me help you, baby," She did something to the back of the dress, and Draco dropped her hand to her side.

"I look like a giant, gangly spider," she said. "With giant man shoulders,"

"You do not," Mom said, rounding to look at the front.

"No, she doesn't," I agreed. She looked like a skinny girl in a dress- which she was. "But that's not gonna change how she feels about it. Maybe you should help her pick something else out."

"Okay," Mom said. She touched Draco's shoulder and looked at her. "Is that what you want?"

She nodded emotionlessly. All three of us walked into the bedroom. I sat on the bed and Mom started rummaging through the drawers, and Draco stood there. I rubbed her back gently, and she leaned into my touch. Mom had tied a knot in the back, then tucked it behind the dress; it must have been pretty loose around the bust, before. _Proof she isn't as broad as she thinks she is_.

"Pants or a skirt?"

"Long skirt," Draco said.

"I don't have too many of those," said Mom.

"Pants, then,"

Mom picked out long, loose high-rise olive pants and and an off-the-shoulder striped crop top, orange and yellow and white, that buttoned up the middle. They kicked me out while Draco changed again. When she opened the door, she looked a bit less tortured, instead… Self-conscious. Still not a good thing, but one helluva step up. The loose sleeves made her shoulders look smaller, and the fit of the pants made her hips look wider. Mix that with her naturally androgynous face, and she passed at least as well as I did. Mom gently urged her towards the table, and the two of them sat down near me. "Now," Mom said softly. "What's going on?"


	5. Chapter Four - Draco

"What's going on?" I asked quietly, still half asleep, seeing my father standing in my room. Garbage bags, full of something, littered the room. I sat up.

He pointed to a stack of neatly folded clothing on the nightstand. "You'll be wearing that, today. Go downstairs first."

"What? Why?"

He gave me an impatient look. "Because I told you to," he all but snarled.

I frowned at him, then cautiously got to my feet. "What are you-"

"Go. Now. Do _not_ test my patience, Draco."

I walked slowly down the stairs, hugging myself. My feet were cold and bare, my toenails still painted. Mother saw me and motioned me wordlessly towards a still-empty second dining room, where a single chair sat in the middle of the room, a few yet-to-be-unpacked boxes littered about. I was about to ask what the _hell_ was going on, when Mother gently rubbed my shoulder, leading me onward. "Come on, dear," she said softly. "You'll not be going to school today. We're going to spend some quality time together, you and I,"

I relaxed a bit. Mother and I used to go out together all the time. She was certainly only doing it now because she disapproved of- _whatever_ Father was doing, but I wasn't sure I cared. She sat me down in the chair, and I closed my eyes, still very tired.

I heard a buzzing sound. "What-?" I started, just as Mother sheared part of my hair off, vibrating my skull. My mouth fell open, and I sat there, suddenly very awake, staring forward. I felt chunks of hair fall off onto my shoulders, onto the floor. Mother's small fingers were soft and gentle, her nails long and almost soothing as they moved my hair. It was in stark contrast to the deep, painful sense of betrayal I felt. From the first swipe across my head, it was too late to stop her. The damage had been done.

She didn't give me a buzz cut. In fact, she didn't cut the top of my hair at all. Wordlessly, numbly, I tried to respond to her gentle prodding to see if I liked it. I made my way back up to my room to get dressed. Father and the bags were gone. All of my Rave Faggot™ clothes were missing, leaving only Catholic Schoolboy. I took off my clothes and made my way to the nightstand, where the clothes were still waiting for me. I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

My messy platinum pompadour. My boyish face. My adam's apple. My broad shoulders, lithe arms. My flat chest. My thin hips. My penis and my balls. My hairy legs. My big feet. I started to sob, the sounds ripping out of my throat painfully. I collapsed on my bed, still staring at myself, _horrified._

 _You're not a woman._

 _You'll never be a woman._

 _You're a monster and a freak. Look at yourself. Look at yourself._

Look _at yourself._

I hugged myself, tucking my legs under me. I lay back on my bed, listening to myself. I sounded pathetic. I was pathetic. I tried to reason with myself- it's just a haircut. You can get new clothes- hide them if you have to.

But I remembered my father's angry face, stern instructions. I could almost feel my mother's soft, loving hands as she stripped away every ounce of femininity I had, not caring about what it would do to me.

Because they didn't care about me. They cared about how I seemed, how they seemed. With nothing else better to change into, I pulled on the boxer briefs laid out on my nightstand, my trousers, my polo, my socks. I slipped into the loafers by my bed. I glanced at the mirror again. I was no longer sobbing, but tears still flowed freely. I was still disgusted by the boy looking back at me, his face full of sorrow and disgust and hurt and anger. _I could have been happy,_ he seemed to be thinking. _If you hadn't stolen my body_.

 _I could be happy,_ I thought back at him, knowing he wasn't real. _If your body wasn't so wrong_.

I fled down the stairs. Mother was putting her coat on. "Draco-"

"Leave me alone," I growled. Father looked over at me, jaw clenching. "Both of you- leave me the _fuck_ alone."

"Baby-" Mother said as I rushed out the door.

"I'm not your fucking baby!" I roared back. I didn't glance behind me, and if she followed me at all, she gave up before I made it to the park.

Lily touched my hand. I stared at the contact. Her skin was porcelain, barely different from mine. Her fingers were short and thin, her nails not nearly as long as my mother's, not perfectly manicured; they were short and clean, trimmed to the end of her nails, no polish at all. Her ring was a small golden band with a ruby in the middle, one small diamond on either side, simple, pretty. My hand was pretty small, at least considering I was a g- _AMAB_ , I reminded myself, cringing inwardly. My fingers looked pretty masculine, though, _especially_ in comparison to hers. But my hand was soft and unburdened by much work.

"Let me call James," she said softly. "He'll know what to do."

About an hour later, James came in, dressed in a police uniform. He wordlessly pulled me to my feet in a hug. Awkwardly, I hugged him back. _A very touchy bunch_ , I thought. Mother had a tendency to rub my head, my shoulder, but I hadn't hugged either of my parents since I was, like, five. "You can stay here as long as you need to," he said softly.

"Are you sure?" I asked tentatively.

"I'm certain, honey. We're here for you, and we always will be."

 _Wow_. Stunned and grateful, I hugged him tighter. He was taller than me, broader than me, and I almost felt- _small_. Eventually, I sat back down. "Thank you. All of you. _So_ much."

"Of course," said James. Harry took my hand in his and squeezed it. James glanced at the contact, then his son's face, before looking over at his wife. "Well," he said. "I suppose we ought to- _inform_ the Malfoys of these plans, eh?"

Anxiety flooded me. I really, really, _really_ did not want to see them again. Lily, seeming to sense my reaction, gave me a sweet look, head tilted to the side. "It's alright, dear," she said softly. "We'll go out for a bit afterwards, cheer you up. Whatever you need,"

I could tell them not to bother, my parents wouldn't expend too much energy for me. Even if Mother would, Father would not- not _now,_ anyway. But I didn't know how they would react to me saying that, to me arguing. It suddenly hit me that I had entirely no idea what I was getting myself into; I didn't know these people, how they'd treat me. I barely knew Harry at all. The horror began to sink in, the jittery, anxious fear of the unknown-

"Okay?" Lily asked softly, placing her hand on mine again, rubbing her thumb against it.

"Okay," I said numbly. My brain seemingly shut off.

The four of us made our way to James' police car, where Harry and I sat in the back together, our hands clasped, my head on his shoulder, his head on mine. The drive was silent, save for the directions Harry gave James, and then we were there. We had to wait a few moments at the gate for Father to open it, and I wondered grimly what he'd be thinking. Father was walking towards the car as we headed up the driveway, Mother peering through the window uncharacteristically, terrified and heartsick. I was surprised at the anger that roared to life inside me; she wouldn't have to be heartsick if she'd ever actually cared for me. James rolled down his window before Father could reach us.

"Thank you, sir!" said Father in a chipper voice. "I do expect you've found my son, then-?"

"I've found your daughter, sir," said James curtly. Father stood still at the window, peering in to see me leaning against Harry. His face had gone sour.

"I do not have a daughter, _sir_ ," he said in a low voice, eyes locked on mine. I couldn't seem to look away, as much as I tried to bury my face against Harry's arm.

"Then I'm sure you won't be terribly upset to learn that she has found- other residency," James snapped.

"Not at all," he said, and I inhaled sharply, looking away instantly. Through the mirror, I could see that James looked startled for a moment, then furious.

"Very well then. I might like to collect her things-"

" _He_ has no things," said Father in a snarl. "I paid for everything that he had. If you've got no further business with me, sir, I might like you off of my property."

James tensed, his jaw clenched, and glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I looked back at my father, an old man, a _cruel_ man, scowling, hateful. I glanced at my mother, face visible behind the window, looking as fretful as ever. She was beautiful, and soft, and weak, bending to her husband's every will. She disappeared, then walked to the front door. Father straightened, looking agitated.

"What's going on, dear? Have they got him?"

"Yes, they have," Father said coldly. "They've got him for evermore,"

"What?" she demanded, hurrying forward. "What exactly do you expect to do with-" she froze when she saw me, mouth agape, then gawked at Harry.

"Love her," Lily piped up, and I blinked in awe. "Care for her. Allow her to be herself. You know- all the things you refuse to do,"

Mother gaped at her for a moment, furious, offended, _guilty_ , and teary-eyed. "That is my baby," she snapped dramatically. "My child, my flesh and my blood. I will have you know that I have done nothing but love him-"

" _Her_ ," Lily snarled.

"Enough," snapped Father. "Take _it_ off of my property, at once,"

"It?" Roared Mother, gawking at him. Father, floored and furious, swivelled to look at her.

"I love you," I said suddenly, and they both looked at me again. "Both of you, very much, and forever," I said, feeling a few tears fall down my cheeks as my face screwed up. "But I cannot be who you seem dead set on _forcing_ me to be. So, I guess- I guess this is goodbye,"

"Draco," Mother started, a tear falling down her face. I buried my face against Harry's arm, and he pulled me into him. James started the car, and Mother went to stop him, but Father grabbed hold of her, and she went limp, crying into her husband. I turned away again, crying into Harry, who held me and rubbed my back gently.

After the driveway had disappeared behind us, James parked the car alongside the curb. "What do you need?" he asked softly. I didn't respond. I didn't know.

"Are you hungry, dear?" asked Lily after a moment. I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I'll look up somewhere vegan, then," she said, and pulled out her cellphone. I laid down and curled up, my cheek on Harry's thigh. He ran his fingers through my hair, rubbed my arm, my side. It was nice, but it didn't do much to help. I was just thoughtlessly weeping, as if in mourning. The sounds that came out of me were foreign and manly, yet still weak, pathetic. Eventually, the car started again, and away we drove. We stopped outside of a restaurant, and I took a moment to compose myself before the four of us walked in and were seated. It was a nice place, very fresh and bright, with light walls and pale wood tones and lots of stunning, gorgeous windows; two of the walls were naught but windows, and half of a third was one large bay window with stunning green flora all through it, vines crawling over the windows, flowers blossoming. We were sat at the table closest to that corner, where the greenery was thickest. We had a view of a small clearing before a treeline.

"Wow," I said.

"I know," said Lily, more than a little impressed. "Gosh, I wish we'd known about this place before. We should come here all the time." She glanced amusedly at her husband. "At least until you learn how to cook vegan food well, hon,"

"We'll see how much the bill is," he muttered, setting his napkin in his lap.

"I'm sorry," I said suddenly.

"What ever for?" James asked, frowning, concerned.

"You have to find a whole new place to eat, and change everything you make, just so-"

"Draco," James said softly, gently scooping my hand up in his. "We don't mind. If we did, we really could just make seperate food for us. But we might as well try it, eh? It's probably healthier, anyhow,"

"Okay," I said, looking down. "Thank you. For everything. Again."

"'Ello!" said the waiter as he approached. "Name's Stan, an' 'ow can I 'elp yas today?"

James looked between Lily and I. "Ladies first," he said cheerily, and I looked shyly down as Lily looked to me. "Water, please," I said softly.

"A'ight, an' you, miss?"

"I'd like some green tea," she said.

"A'ight,"

"The- fake milk stuff," Harry said, squinting at the menu.

"Soy, almond, oat, coconut, hazelnut-?"

"Hazelnut, I suppose," said Harry, looking a bit anxious. I squeezed his hand beneath the table.

"A'ght, lad," said Stan. "An' you, sir?"

"Just a coffee for me, please, and thank you,"

"Thank _yas_ ," Stan insisted, before nodding and taking his leave.

"I love hazelnut milk," I said after a moment. "It's delicious- my favorite. And," I looked up at James. "It goes great with coffee,"

"Does it?" he asked.

"Mhm. Probably tea, too,"

"I might have to try that," James said, looking delighted.

"You can make it at home, too," I went on. "I do, all the time. You just need water, some nuts, and a sweetener- I like maple syrup, which I _also_ make at home, or sometimes honey- I try not to eat much sugar,"

James and I went on about that until Stan returned with our drinks, and James did indeed order some hazelnut milk to put in his coffee. He looked up at me.

"Oh, I'll try the gingerbread waffles, please," I said.

"I'll have the chickpea omelette," said Lily.

"The hash for me, please," Harry said.

"All… right," said Stan, scribbling down on his notepad.

Finally, James. "I'll try these apple buckwheat pancakes, please,"

"Very well. Be back in a jiffy," Stan said, and disappeared.

"Big fan of apples in general, I suppose," I said with a coy smile.

James grinned. "Just keeping with the autumnal theme,"

"Thank you," I said suddenly after a pause. "Again."

"You don't need to keep doing that, darling," said Lily. I looked up at her, her stunning face, her soft, kind eyes. Harry squeezed my hand and I looked over at him. He was eyeing my face. I leaned on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of him against me.

"So," James said, looking between us. "You're…" he cleared his throat. "Together? Or…?"

Harry coughed gently, wrapping an arm around my waist. I looked up at him, chewing my lip. His eyes held the same question, though a bit more excited, nervous, anticipatory. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asked softly, and a blossom of warmth radiated through me. I felt all fluttery and bright. "I reckon it's a bit early, but… I like you, a lot," he admitted, glancing away for a bit with a boyish, sheepish grin.

"I'd love to," I whispered softly. He grinned wider, looking away, but I could see the edges of his cheeks, flushed red. I giggled, blushing as well, and nuzzled into him. He turned back to put his head over mine, and I was tucked nicely into his neck. A- girlish glee was dancing throughout me. _This is the best day of my life_.

"That's lovely, isn't it, James?" I heard Lily coo.

"Yes," he said, his voice- delicate. I burned a brighter red, embarrassed at our display, but I could seem to pull myself back from Harry's warm embrace. Eventually, though, Stan returned with our food, and I did.

"I ask because- you know," James said as we started. "You're going to be staying with us, and we need a- plan. Some… Ground rules, I suppose,"

"Like what?" Harry asked, frowning at his father.

"Well, you know," he said, then glanced at me. "No sex while-"

I choked on my waffles a bit, shocked. _Sex_? We were at a _restaurant_ , in public- not to mention it was crazy to talk about that at all like this, so casual, adult to teen. I composed myself, the darkest shade of red that one could be. James looked- spooked, and entirely unsure how to continue. He looked at Lily, pleading silently for help.

"No sex while we're home," said Lily gently, placing a hand on mine. "But you're both old enough, legally, and we'd rather you do it safely than sneak away somewhere and get yourselves in troubles. We were teenagers once, too, and we know that you're going to do- whatever you want, really. We'd rather help you be safe than try and micromanage your lives, only to wind up- with you hurt," she said.

"Oh… kay…" I said softly, still red.

"We don't- we don't have to- I mean, I'm not going to try and- force you, or anything-"

"I'd certainly hope not," I said, laughing uncomfortably. "Thank you," I squeezed his hand in mine.

"But, you know. You can- go up to Harry's room, I suppose," said Lily. "As long as you don't- not while we're home."

"Can we, like," Harry said suddenly, then glanced at me. "As long as she's okay with it- can we, like, snog, while you're home?" he seemed about as uncomfortable as I was. I looked down at the floor. _This is a_ very _different family dynamic_.

James and Lily looked at each other, shrugged, then nodded. "Sure."

"Where will I sleep?" I asked quietly.

"Well," said James, looking over at Lily. "We've only got the two bedrooms,"

"With Harry, I suppose," she said.

Panic flooded me. As nice as the thought of cuddling into him was-

"I've got a futon," he said hurriedly, sensing my reaction. "I'll take that, you can have the bed,"

"Are you sure?" I squeaked. "I can-"

"Of course I'm sure," he said, squeezing my hand assuringly. I gave a small nod.

"Thank you."

"Um, other than that-" James looked at his wife again. "We don't have many rules, do we, dear?"

"Wash your own dishes," Lily said. "Do your own laundry. If you don't know how," she continued, a gleam in her eye as she saw the panic enter my eyes again. "I'll teach you. Home before dark- if not, call us and keep us updated. You know, just- keep us in the know, so we can make sure you're safe, and happy, and healthy. That's really all we ask,"

"Okay," I said softly.

"Oh," said James suddenly. "She'll need some new clothes, won't she?" Guilt flooded me. They were going to spend _their_ money on-

Lily looked at me. "I do suppose so- don't you, darling?"

"I… Guess," I said, turning red again. "I'm sorry-"

"It's not your fault," Lily said gently. I nodded reluctantly, and she squeezed my hand again. "It really, truly isn't."

"I don't mean to be rude," James said suddenly, fiercely. "But how someone can- act that way, treat their child like that…" He clenched his jaw, eyes red hot with anger. "It sickens me. If you can't love your children, you shouldn't have them."

I gave a small, forced smile. The dread was setting back in, the nausea, the- longing. I did love my parents. Lily gave me a small, sad smile, her eyes full of understanding. "It will be okay, darling. A lot will change, and they might never go back. But we will make sure that you're okay. I can promise you that much at the very least."

My face contorted and I curled into Harry again, crying silently against him. He held me tight, gently caressing me like he had in the car, but it was a lot more effective now. I heard a few quick noises; James might have tried to stand to come over, but if he did, Lily stopped him.

I wasn't entirely sure why I was crying. Maybe it was a lot of things, all at once- all I knew was that I was too exhausted to examine any of that in great detail. _We will make sure that you're okay_ kept playing over and over again, and then guilt rose up to the top, and gratitude, and fear. If I'd not met Harry, if he'd not texted me, if his parents weren't so- saintly… What would I have doe? It struck me suddenly how terrified of that I still was.

"I know this is a lot," said James softly. "I'm sorry about that."

"You don't- need to be," I sniffled.

There was a pause. "Sirius was kicked out when he was about your age," he said softly. "We'd been friends for years. He was already part of the family, really. Taking him in- was so easy and natural. He wasn't shaken at all by it; he'd never liked his family, they'd never liked him. It was a godsend, really, for all of us.

"But… It isn't like that with you, and I'm so, so sorry about that. This must be horrible to go through. I really wish we could make it all better. Whatever you need- whatever you want- we will make happen. I swear to you."

I pulled back from Harry to look at James, embarrassed by my stupid crying face. "Thank you," I managed, reaching out. He squeezed my hand, eyes full of some- fierce paternal strength.

I curled back into Harry then, my crying ending shortly thereafter. There was a comfortable silence amongst us for the rest of our meal, and then we went back to the car.

"Okay, so- it's eleven in the morning. Gameplan," Lily said. "Draco and I head out shopping, and James, you drop Harry of at home, then head back to work."

"But-" Harry began.

"No buts. You have to clean your room- it's a nightmare. Plus," Lily's eyes glimmered at me through the rearview. "Draco and I need some girl time. No boys allowed!"

I got a small smile, flushing. "Yeah, boys have cooties," I said softly.

"We will reconvene for dinner," Lily said. "Sound like a plan?"

"Actually," Harry said, looking sheepishly over at me. "I was hoping me and Draco could have a dinner date tonight? Maybe catch a movie afterwards?"

I turned crimson, then nodded. "I'd- love that, a lot, actually."

"Great!" said Lily brightly. "So, after we're done shopping, we'll come home, kick _you_ out while she gets ready, and then you can be off,"

"Brilliant," Harry and I said in unison. I would have turned redder if I could; instead, I buried my head against him again. As we drove, Harry looked through movies on his phone. We settled on the big group superhero movie, and he bought the tickets on his phone.

"You have a card?" I asked quietly, surprised.

"Yeah," he said. "I've got my own job- well, sort of. I clean houses for a lot of people in town. I also shovel in the winter and mow lawns in the summer, rake in the fall. Stuff like that."

"Wow," I said, impressed. He got a sheepish smile as I looked up at him.

"I told you, son," said James from the front seat. "Girls go crazy over a man with a job,"

"I can hardly contain myself," I said cheekily, and Harry laughed gently.

We arrived back at the Potters' house- _my_ house, I thought, though it seemed so surreal- and climbed out of the car. James pulled away as I folded myself into Harry's arms, and he held me tightly, kissing my temple and stroking my back. Thankfully, Lily slowly made her way towards her car, giving us space.

"I know it must be hard for you right now," Harry said softly. "And I know this is- new, us, we're- we're new," he said, then gave an awkward laugh. "But I'm actually… Really excited, you know?"

"Yeah," I said softly, basking in his embrace. "I am, too, actually. Despite- everything."

"Good," Harry said softly. "I'm glad. And- I know this probably isn't the best to bring up, but…" He pulled back, putting a hand to my face and looking into my eyes. It was a private, intimate interaction, and the world melted away again. His green eyes grew solemn, his expression- tentative. "If we don't work out, romantically, I want you to know we'll still always be here for you."

"Oh," I said, feeling- a lot of mixed emotions. On one hand, I was quite glad to hear that. On the other… The fact that he'd brought it up made me nervous and sad, like a child with a leaky balloon.

"Not that I don't think we will," he said hurriedly, stroking my cheek softly. "I just don't want you to be afraid- or feel like you _have_ to be with me just to have a roof over your head,"

"Oh," I said again. "I don't. Thank you." I shuffled closer to him, touching our foreheads together. "I know you're too sweet for something like that," I said with a small smile, looking up at him from beneath my lashes. He almost- gazed at me, adoringly, for a long moment, and I felt myself flush and shudder.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. I bit my lip and looked away, but he gently caught my jaw- not forceful, as if to say 'you don't have to keep looking at me, but I'd like you to'. I did, cheeks flushing further. "The prettiest girl in the entire world-"

I scoffed, burying my face into the crook of his neck. He held me tight. "Don't you scoff at me," he muttered softly.

"You're not the boss of me," I said quietly, and I felt him smile into my hair.

"I can't believe-" I started, voice breaking. "I can't believe she… My hair…"

Harry held me tighter, then ran his hand through it gently. "I'm so sorry, baby,"

"Me, too," I said. I stayed like that, tucked into him, for a long time. I liked the way it felt, to stand there with him playing with my hair, feel the warmth of him.

"Mom's getting impatient," he said softly, reluctantly pulling away. I glanced over at her, sitting in her running car.

"Aye," I said with a small smirk, and he glared playfully at me. I looked at his handsome, boyish face, then leaned forward and kissed him gently. He returned it evenly, then deepened it. Our lips closed around each other two, three, four times, and his tongue taunted mine for a moment before he eventually pulled away, gazing at me again like he had before, and I flushed again, looking down.

"Have fun shopping," he said softly, rubbing his thumb against my hip.

"Have fun cleaning," I replied.

"Aye, a blast," he said with a grin, then took one slow step backwards, towards the house. I sidestepped once, and he took another step back, and we repeated that, giggling to ourselves, until we were out of each others sights. I scurried quickly to the car and climbed into the front.

"I'm sorry it took so long," I said, blushing. I went to tuck my hair behind my ear like I was used to, but my hand froze with nothing to tuck. Grimly, I dropped it into my lap, then smoothed over the soft, thick fabric of my borrowed trousers.

"It's no problem," Lily said, pulling away. "I was young and doe-eyed, once, too,"

"Tell me about it," I requested, straightening, a little flutter of anxiety rushing through me. _God, I'm_ so _bad at talking to people._

"Ooh," said Lily. "Well, I had a boyfriend when I was quite young- my neighbor. His name was Severus. We were the best of friends, but since we held hands, too, we thought we were going to get married one day,"

I laughed heartily. "Naturally, of course,"

"We parted ways when we were- oh, about fourteen, fifteen, I want to say? I went on a few one-off or two-off dates, and of course, each time I'd thought I'd stumbled upon my next big relationship, but none of them went anywhere. I'd just gotten it into my head that this might take awhile when James asked me out when we were seventeen," Lily's eyes grew wistful, amused. "He'd been asking since we'd met- when Sev and I still were together- and I'd always shot him down; he was a bit of a prat in school, you see, especially to Sev. But he'd been- growing, getting better, working harder, and we'd almost grown to be friends."

"So you said yes, finally," I said brightly.

"Heavens, no. We continued on as friends for a few months, and then I kissed him at the Yule Ball. _That_ was when we got together,"

"Ah," I said, amused. "What's a Yule Ball?"

"Oh, my," said Lily. "I do suppose you're new, with an accent like that. The Yule Ball is the christmas dance, quite a lovely bash indeed."

"Huh," I said thoughtfully. "I'll look forward to that,"

"Aye, I always did," she said. "The next year, we got permission from the school to get married at the next Yule Ball, though we'd graduated. It was lovely,"

"You got married fast," I said, surprised.

"Aye. We'd just found out we were pregnant with Harry," she said. "Didn't much want to have a baby without it, so we took the chance,"

"Aw," I said.

Shortly thereafter, we parked on the street outside of what looked like a second hand boutique. It had a very- funky, bohemian vibe to it. We walked inside to hear very strange, psychedelic music playing in the background. There were rugs all over the carpet, none matching, overlapping each other, placed precariously. Rugs were hung up on the walls behind clothes. Chandeliers with origami shades over the lights hung down often, but again, none of them matched. "My friend Alice Longbottom owns this place," Lily said as we walked in further. "You might have met her son, Neville, already,"

"Yes," I said. "At school. Nice boy,"

"Thank you," said a voice behind us, and I jumped, letting out a loud gasp. We swivelled- Lily trying her best not to snicker- to see Neville and who I assumed to be his mother, Alice, sitting behind the counter. She looked exactly how I'd have pictured someone running this place to look- like Lily, but a lot more… Kitschy. Her hair was short and choppy, a dark color, greying a bit. She looked a lot like Neville, though less masculine and more… Pixie-like. She grinned. "I did raise him to be nice,"

"Alice," said Lily brightly. "This is Harry's new girlfriend. Isn't she lovely?"

Alice appraised me brightly for a moment, standing, delighted. Neville looked surprised for a moment, but seemed to adjust quickly. "She's a cutie, isn't she?"

"Aye," said Lily. "I've no idea what she sees in that deadbeat,"

I laughed softly, flushing. "Hi, Neville," I said, instead of responding.

"Hi- Draco," he said. "How are you?"

"I'm… Here," I said finally.

"That's all you can hope for, in the end, eh, Lils?" said Alice.

"Aye," said Lily. It sounded strange in her Welsh accent, but she'd been in Scotland for decades now. It made sense for her to have picked it up, I suppose.

Alice followed us around as we shopped. All the clothes were cheap, and all of them were a bit strange, but I liked most of them. After we'd put together a decently sized wardrobe, Alice brought us to the shoes and assured us we'd get them for free (after a glance at me for permission, Lily had filled her in on why we were buying all these clothes) and the rest half off. When we were done, Neville helped us carry everything to our car.

"D'you want me to let everyone know about the girlfriend thing?" asked Neville. "Might be a bit less awkward for them to have a bit of time to stew with it,"

"Yes, if you don't mind terribly- and if Harry's okay with it, of course," I said.

"Okay. I'll text him."

"Thank you, Neville." I said, smiling at him. He returned it easily.

"Think nothing of it," he said. "What're friends for, after all?"

He hugged both me and Lily goodbye, and then we were on our way home.

That was when the anxiety for my date struck me like a truck.


End file.
